


The AI of the Beholder

by MamaHen



Series: The All-Seeing AI [2]
Category: AI: The Somnium Files (Video Game)
Genre: Angstfluff, Don't look at me like that, F/M, Guilt, Hurt/Comfort, I hope, I'm a gardener, I'm finally in a fandom that's actually active!, POV Multiple, Post-Canon, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Resolution End Spoilers, Sometimes these things get away from me, Spoilers, Survivor Guilt, Time for me to bring my specialty to a new audience:, Will still be pretty fluffy in the end despite all that, also
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-07
Updated: 2020-01-07
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:48:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22155799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MamaHen/pseuds/MamaHen
Summary: Every day, Date remembers a bit more about his past, and finds that the ocean of blood on his hands is still growing deeper. It weighs on him, always getting a little heavier, and when Date looks in the mirror, all he can he see is the monster he was.When Aiba sees him in the mirror, all she can see is the hero he's become, and she knows she's not the only one.
Relationships: Aiba & Date Kaname, Date Kaname & Okiura Mizuki, Date Kaname & Sagan Iris, Date Kaname/Sagan Hitomi
Series: The All-Seeing AI [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1594792
Comments: 4
Kudos: 49





	The AI of the Beholder

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote this literally the same day that I finished the Resolution End. I dunno how long this new-fic momentum is going to last, but I'm riding it for as long as I can!

[Date, we're twenty minutes behind schedule.] Aiba's voice echoed in Date's head, and she knew he heard her, it was literally impossible for him to not. [If we leave now, we can still be less than an hour late without violating traffic laws.] No response. Instead, the man just kept rubbing his chin, feeling over the face he'd shaved twice already this morning alone. Once upon a time, Date had lamented that he couldn't grow a beard. _Repeatedly._ Now that he could, an average of 47.2 minutes was spent every morning making sure that he didn't. [You have pale skin and dark, coarse facial hair, Date. Further attempts to shave are not going to provide any substansive results. If you wish, I can schedule you a consultation about laser hair removal surgery, but that will take some time before-]

"How long?" Date spoke aloud, in his new voice that she still wasn't quite used to. It was deeper and gruffer than Saito Sejima's, and while Aiba had no personal feelings on it, she understood that those qualities were considered conventionally attractive.

[Approximately two to three weeks, depending on how many clients are-]

"Not that." He cut her off again, and were it not for the intensity in his tone, Aiba would have strongly considered scolding him for it. "How long do I have if I drive normally?"

[...if you drive at the maximum speed I can allow, seven minutes.]

"That's plenty of time." Aiba sighed as Date bent over the sink again, rubbing over his face with hot water. "Let me know when it's been six."

\-----

[Traditionally, a yellow stoplight means 'prepare to stop', not 'floor it.'] Date's third shave had taken significantly more than seven minutes, and all he'd managed to do was nick himself twice. Now, he had small pieces of toilet paper stuck to his face to stop the bleeding, and he was continually attempted to exceed the speed limit by more than ten kilometers per hour. 

"Yeah, but I made it. What's the problem?"

[The problem, Date, is that being a police detective does not excuse you from traffic laws. If this keeps happening, I _will_ override driving controls in the future.]

"Alright, alright, you've made your point." Date eased off the accelerator, slightly, and Aiba loosened her digital grip on the steering column. Slightly.

[I still do not understand why you're so insistent on finding the perfect shave, Date.] Over the past month, he'd spent an inadvisable amount of money on top-of-the-line shave gel and razors, trying to find one that met his standards. [Neither ABIS nor the Police Department as a whole have strict enough regulations about facial hair to warrant such extreme measures. And if this is about your relationship with Hitomi-]

"Don't even _start_ with that, Aiba. I swear, you bring it up even more than Iris does. And it's not a relationship! It's just..." Date's voice trailed off, but his hands gripped the wheel tightly enough that the leather cover creaked. If his hands weren't gloved, Aiba was 100% certain that she'd be able to see his knuckles turning white. "I don't know what it is, but it isn't that."

[Hitomi would be very hurt if she heard you say that.] Date didn't respond, and Aiba knew it was because she was right. He knew it, too. [And you still haven't answered my question. Why is having such a close shave so important to you, Date?]

"I just... don't feel like me." Aiba was taken aback by Date's tone. It was quiet, and uncharacteristically honest. He sounded almost... fragile. "When I touch my chin, it's supposed to be smooth, and a bit rounded. Now, it's rough and bony, and I-"

 _ **[Red light!]**_ Aiba overrode the controls, bringing the car to a sudden jerking halt just a few inches in front of a crosswalk. A few pedestrians gave the vehicle strange looks as they went past, but there was no further risk or injury. [I'm going to send Boss a message letting her know you'll be late. How about we go back to driving under the speed limit, please?]

"Yeah. Yeah, that's a good idea." Another long breath, and Date loosened his grip on the wheel. "Sorry about that."

[Just don't do it again.] Date began driving again, and Aiba composed a message, explaining their tardiness in the simplest of terms. If Date wanted to give her an excuse, he'd need to come up with it himself. [Done.] Satisfied that he was done playing Gran Turismo, Aiba went quiet as well. She had someone else she needed to speak to.

 _[Mother? I have an inquiry.]_ Aiba sent a heartbeat, and Wadjet returned it. She was listening. _[What do you know about body dysmorphia?]_

**Author's Note:**

> Did I really just write an entire chapter about a cop and his eyeball arguing about facial hair?


End file.
